


Arrival

by agdhani



Category: Gabriel (2007)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agdhani/pseuds/agdhani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discovering mortality</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> I used Gabriel in a role-play environment, and wrote his arrival into the city to be very similar to the movie's opening...this is only his arrival, and my written interpretation of the movie's opening scene.

Agony rolled over him, crushing his body and lungs with the unfamiliar affect of cold air and gravity. He did not know how to breathe, had never needed to do so until this moment, but the impulse came naturally, if desperately and painfully and with his mouth opened to the falling torrent, he coughed and sputtered and fought against choking. Bright fingers of light scratched between layers of sky, burning their jagged image into the memory of newborn eyes which squeezed shut in response to the unexpected harshness. There had been seeing before, but never like this, never with eyes that stung and blinked as water droplets fell into them. Ozone, wet earth, salt in the air…the splatter of plump water drops off of leather and stone, the sizzle of the air as the lightning singed it…all were overpowering in their novelty; he knew what none of these scents or sounds were, what caused them, as he clutched his head in an attempt to block out the overwhelming sensory assault. The following crack of thunder was a sound he recognized however, but from this vantage point, below it and not above it, to physical ears that had never before heard, it was deafening…frightening.

The rain came down harder, pelting his face and hands with a stinging force that made his glowing blue eyes tear. His mouth opened and sound came forth, neither a scream, nor a roar, nor a cry, but a mutant combination of all three, an expression of emotions and sensations he could not name. There had never been a physical form in which to create sound before, and the guttural harshness, and raggedness of the effort, combined with the pain in his head caused by another thunder shock, made him clutch his head harder and roll to his side in an automatic reflex to curl into a ball and escape it. The action resulted in an unexpected lancing of pain as his forehead struck a sharp, rocky protrusion. Not anticipating that the hurting could feel any worse then he had already experienced in those first few moments of ‘birth’, he jolted into an unexpected sitting position and found himself staring across a barren landscape, gasping for breath, feeling as if his chest would explode from the inside out. One hand clutched over his breast in an effort to still the hammering there.

His heart, he wondered?

For as far as he could see, everything was varying shadows of gray and black. If not for the pale glow of upon the distant horizon, the muddy black of the earth would have bled into the inky froth of storm clouds. It was procedure, he knew, an initiation and rite of passage they all went through when undertaking this mission of combating the Fallen. Their journey out of the holy realm and their arrival here were always accompanied by storms, as if the frigid, sting of rain, like the tears of those left behind, could wash away what had been, what lingered in his memory, and baptized them into what he had become.

Human. Or at least physically mortal, as there was still that within him that would never allow him to be fully human. Those sent here were told very little about what lay ahead of them, of what it was like to bear a body of flesh and blood and bone, or what it was like to leave everything they had ever known behind. Perhaps if they had, they would have been discouraged against coming. More likely, however, being unable to fathom the pains and sensations he was experiencing now, they would have come anyhow and the shock of it would have been just as great. He wondered, as his muddy hands clawed into the course gravel for leverage to twist to his knees, how the others had fared before him.

It should not have been him. He should not be here. Of the seven Arcs, six had come before…and six had failed. There had been no word from any of them; it was impossible to conclude otherwise. Michael, the strongest Arc of all, the one who had come last, had vanished too, and those in the holy realms could only assume that he too had failed to vanquish the Fallen. He didn’t want to believe it. He had loved Michael dearly. Surely Sammael and the Fallen could not have grown so strong as to defeat Heaven’s most powerful warrior. Something else must have happened. Something else had gone wrong.

So now, it fell upon Gabriel’s shoulders to learn the truth. To find his fellow Arcs, destroy the Fallen, and return light to the realm of shadows. It was a mission he had undertaken eagerly, one he was confident he could complete…if only the pain would stop.

Like an infant learning to walk, he struggled to his feet, staggered unsteadily with his arms flailing for balance. The wind-whipped rain wrapped the long leather of his coat around his legs and he fell once more to his knees. He roared at the jarring pain, but immediately tried again. Unlike a toddler, he could not afford days or weeks of learning. He had to master this physical form now. The Fallen would have felt the power released at the moment of his arrival, as the Heaven’s split open and deposited him into the mud. They would know he was here, if not precisely where. It was only a matter of time before one or more of them came for him, hoping to take advantage of his newborn weakness. It was an advantage he did not plan to give them for long. Being the last Arc, he did not plan to fail as well.

Once on his feet, his arms held out to the side to balance his sway, he covered his head with the good of his coat and began putting one foot in front of the other. Several times he nearly fell, a few times he did, but when he successfully managed to walk several steps without tripping or collapsing, he started towards the sheen of sickly yellow lights in the distance. Lights meant civilization…mankind. If he were to find the Fallen anywhere, perhaps even some trace of his kin, it would be amongst the very men and women they had been sent to influence. He was counting on his point of arrival having been relatively near where he was intended to find the others, and find them he would.

The lightning burned his eyes less now, but the cacophony of sound had not diminished. He did his best to ignore it, and the rivulets of rain that coursed from his short dark hair into his ears and eyes, but the effort did little more than create an uncomfortable throbbing behind his eyes. An increased focus on his surroundings, however, as he drew closer to the realm of people, took his mind off of the pain. He had to be on his guard now. Until he was steadier, until he was armed for battle, wariness was the only ally he had, the only thing that would keep him alive. If it was one thing he knew, he could not rely on the kindness of man to save him in this place…not when it was his duty to save them instead.

*

Behind darkened windows, the young woman watched the lightning with a breathless sense of anticipation. Something...everything...was about to change.


End file.
